


Stark sisters

by Rogercat



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Bisexual Female Character, Brothers, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, F/M, Family Drama, Female Friendship, Female Jon Snow, Friendship/Love, Gen, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Inappropriate Behavior, Letters, Loyalty, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Motherhood, Not For Rhaegar Fans, Other, Pre-Canon, Pregnancy, R Plus L Does Not Equal J, Relationship(s), Rumors, Siblings, Sisters, Slow To Update, Widowed, not for lyanna fans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-01-11 20:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18431720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogercat/pseuds/Rogercat
Summary: In a world where Lyanna is not the only Stark daughter, the contrast between the sisters of House Stark will affect their futures





	1. The older daughter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ramzes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramzes/gifts).



> To Ramzes, for all your lovely AU stories which I love to see how the R/L romance will not work out and for your ideas on their characters

Year 273 AC, Winterfell: 

 

Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, knew that with his plans to marry his offspring into the South, one of his children had to be tied to the North or his bannermen would be displeased. 

 

Brandon was out of question, his heir was promised to the oldest Tully daughter and thus would be tied to the Riverlands, while he planned Lyanna to marry Robert Baratheon, the future Lord of the Stormlands. 

 

That left his three other children. But Eddard was already fostered in the Vale with Jon Arryn with no planned future bride for his second son, and Benjen was far too young to think of marriage yet. 

 

That left Serena, his oldest child, born thirteen years ago and currently fostered by House Manderly of White Harbour. It was some months ago since he last had seen his first daughter face to face, but he knew that Serena would do her duty as a daughter of House Stark and and marry well. 

 

After all, she had taken over some of the household duties after the death of his wife, a illness not related to childbirth but one of the lungs which had left his poor Lyarra struggling for breath and slowly wasting away when she could not bear to feed anything else than liquid food, which she had not even been able to stomach in her last weeks alive. 

 

Perhaps he had been cruel to send Serena away to be fostered soon after the burial four years ago, but Rickard had seen the pain in her eyes with the realization that the ghost of Lyarra would always be there in Winterfell until that Serena had gotten used to that her mother was gone. 

 

Again he looked over the coats of arms belonging to each one of the noble houses of the North, thinking hard of the various oldest sons written down there. House Bolton was out of question, he could not trust them to not use Serena's status as a Stark to try and gain more control over the North.   

 

House Marsh, perhaps. One of the few noble houses to never have married into the Stark blood before. 

 

With the House chosen, Rickard grabbed a quill and some ink to start a letter to the current Lord of House Marsh. Serena was only three years away from her sixteenth name day, a maiden ready for marriage. 

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

Being back in Winterfell for a rare visit was both joy and pain for Serena. Joy to be in the home she had been born into, with her family, especially now when the grief over her mother had lessened some years ago. 

 

And pain for that she had a such strained relationship with Lyanna, who was six years younger. 

 

“Lyanna? Lyanna, I wanted to see your sewing before you are riding out again with Brandon and Benjen?” 

 

Of course her sister was not there in the sewing chamber, and the sound of hooves mixed with laughter from the courtyard told Serena that Lyanna was already out of reach to bring back. It took all her inner self-control to not start screaming in exasperation. 

 

“Lord Stark made a mistake in sending you away for fostering, dear girl. Your sister is becoming pretty the she-wolf without a female relative to teach her how to be a lady.”

 

Old Nan actually sounded displeased over that there was no actual Lady to control the household in Winterfell, only a housekeeper, where she was keeping herself busy with knitting close to the fireplace, the heat helping her old body.

 

“Her behavior is exactly why I have asked Father several times to send Lyanna away for fostering as well. He is allowing her to get away with things I would never be able to do. She and Benjen will not remain young children forever, they have to understand that sometimes there can be really bad consequences of their actions!” Serena growled, allowing herself to fall back in a help of pillows, her hand on the forehead hinting to a incoming headache, before she continued:

 

“At the very least, Lyanna should learn basic sewing and how to keep records of the household! Every daughter here in the North, from the peasants to the Noble Houses, have to know the various ways of making clothing! And watching over the servants in the kitchen so the food is not wasted!” 

 

Nan looked at the young girl. The oldest Stark daughter in this generation had perhaps not been blessed at birth with what most would call beauty in the Stark family females and only the most rude of people would see her as plain, but Serena still had a pleasant face and took care of her appearance without without exaggerating or trying to beautify herself with makeup like the noble daughters of the South. Her time in White Harbour had also taught her a few things which was more of the manners of the South, but she was still a firm believer in the Old Gods and able of adjusting to the people around her. 

 

The younger lady Lyanna, on the other hand…

 

Nan sighed, thinking of the difference between the two Stark daughters. Lyanna was a wild thing, showing all the signs of the wolf-blood alongside the young master Brandon. It could lead to greatness, or to doom for them both. And it was not good that Lord Rickard kept his younger daughter sheltered from the outside world like this, it made miss Lyanna naive to the point of that she would end up believing that she could do whatever she wanted without thinking of how people could be hurt as a result. 

 

That possible cruelty against others was already there, with miss Lyanna looking down on her older sister for not being into sword fighting and spending time with the boys. She dismissed other girls and women as below her, viewing herself as better than them. That was a attitude not worthy of a Stark daughter, and would only harm miss Lyanna when it was time for her to marry a husband and move away from Winterfell into another household which she was expected to lead and give birth to the next generation, and where people might not admire her behavior in the same manner as lord Rickard and her brothers.  

 

“Oh sweet Serena, for a such young lady you prove yourself wise already. Loyal to your family, no doubt, but you are willing to put your foot down and show that there is limits to what you accepts. Perhaps one day, you will form a legend of your own, one I might be able to tell your future nephews and nieces Lord Brandon will sire on his lady wife.” 

 

Serena smiled weakly. 

 

“If you are still alive by that time, Old Nan. But Winterfell would not be the same with you gone and all the old stories you tell in the evenings.” 

 

Sitting up and picking up her own sewing, Serena started to working once more on the grey wool tunic she planned to send to Ned in the Eyrie, surely he could need something warm to wear against the winds there.       


	2. Age difference, personality difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena worries about how Brandon and Lyanna could one day cause trouble for themselves

Year 274 AC, Winterfell: 

 

At the annual harvest feast in Winterfell, Serena was, honestly, not surprised at all to hear her father tell his gathered bannermen that he had chosen a future husband for her, the oldest son and heir to House Marsh, and that they would wed during the harvest feast held in Winterfell in two years' time when she turned sixteen years old. At her current age, it was not unheard of that the first flowering had came and marked a girl as a young woman, changing her from girl into a maid, fertile but not wedded and bedded yet. 

  
  


Before she went to bed that evening, Serena managed to catch her father alone for a moment before he returned to the feast. 

 

“I was actually thinking of asking you, Father, if there had been any suitor you liked for my hand. Now I do not need to worry about it.”

 

“Thinking of your duty as a future wife and mother?” Rickard asked, looking her over. Tall for her age, well-fed by the Manderlys but not too much, but no real signs of the female body she would end up having as a adult woman when she had finished growing. 

 

“That, and hoping to take my place in the bigger world soon. Even if it is only as a wife to one of our bannermen, I hope to become known as more than just another daughter of House Stark of Winterfell.”

 

Bowing her head, Serena bid Rickard goodbye for the night and left to find her chamber.

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

Marriage was one thing Serena knew to happen for her within the coming years because Rickard would never allow either one of his daughters to become a old maid while the best suitors chose another bride or remain unwed their whole lives, but as she looked over the courtyard and saw Lyanna once again training with wooden swords against Benjen, she knew that something was missing. Servants was there, yes, but no other ladies of high birth. 

 

“Brandon really need to marry a fertile lady so there is lots of children in the next generation from him, and I better try to ensure that there is some cousins to his sons and daughters, when I marry….” 

 

By being fostered in White Harbour and getting a small taste of how things could be in the South, Serena had realized that the Great Houses and nobles in the rest of Westeros would find the North uncivilized, especially in one thing;

 

As the oldest daughter and, as the eldest Stark female since the death of her mother, Serena should have some form of a central court here at Winterfell because it was the capital of the North, or at least some ladies-in-waiting from other Northern houses. But her father had been a only child, and any cousins from Lyarra's side of the family would not count as “real” Starks because she had been the younger of two sisters and women generally took the name of their husbands upon marriage. Also, there was not as many noble houses in the North as in the South, harsh winters took lives and she knew many of her fellow ladies of noble blood being busy in serving as the chatelaine for their castles, running the household for a husband or father if their own mothers was dead, and thus couldn't leave their homes just to hang out where they weren’t needed. And some houses simply had not been blessed with daughters before the death of the wife, leaving only sons. 

 

“I have to keep training on what a lady of a noble house must know in order to run the household of her husband…”

 

Serena almost wished that lady Maege Mormont would send her daughter Dacey to Winterfell to become a companion to Brandon's wife or daughters in the future, for with Lord Jeor Mormont having a heir in his son Jorah the female line of House Mormont would only be back-up heirs if something happened. On the other hand…

“At worst, Lyanna might become even worse than that she already is…” she thought while sighing deeply, sitting down on a bench and, out of habit, took out her knitting from the little bag resting against her hip and started to work again on her newest project, a pair of knitted socks to wear in winter for warmth. 

 

How regrettable it was, that the two Stark sisters did not get along! Serena knew that her quiet personality could be mistaken as meek, and that her attempts to be the responsible sister made her boring and not a very funny person to be around, as Lyanna saw it. And yet, how could their father be so blind to how his younger daughter could start walking a path which could destroy herself, because of his lack of discipline against her?  

 

“Am I thinking too much of how Lyanna could cause trouble for the whole family with time...or is it hidden warnings in her behavior even now?”

 

Suddenly, someone called her name, making her stop in the knitting:

 

“Miss Serena?” 

 

It was her betrothed, the future Lord Eric of House Marsh. He was a young man a years older, someone who could be best called “one who blends into the crowd”, that was, meaning he was neither handsome or plain in appearance, but Serena liked that he was kind and did not act arrogant. He had confessed to not be that skilled with his letters and numbers last time they had managed to have a few words with each other, meaning that her skills would be much welcome. 

 

“I saw you watching your sister and youngest brother not very long ago. Are you worried about that they might hurt each other with the wooden swords? They seemed to try and hit rather hard.”

 

“I am worried for that Lyanna will not face a easy marriage because of her personality. It is one thing to be a young girl, running around and play with her brothers, and a very different thing to be a woman grown and escape from her duties as the lady of the house.” 

 

Eric raised a eyebrow in understanding when the deeper meaning of her words sunk in. He was not stupid, he had just needed a few moments to figure it out. 

 

“Ah, very understandable that you worries, then. Are she escaping her lessons?”

 

As he spoke, he joined Serena on the bench.

 

“All of them which have to do with her future as a married woman. House Stark would be shamed, if it comes out that its younger daughter can neither sew, do household accords or watch over the servants in their daily work!”

 

Serena had meant to hold in her anger, but some of its still revealed itself in her voice. The actions of the children to a House could bring either honor or disgrace, which she had learnt from a young age but feared that Brandon and Lyanna seemed to ignore, both in a different way. Brandon was already showing promises to become a handsome, charming man, but what if he founded a reputation as a ladies' man when he grew older and one of his “little adventures” resulted in a illegitimate child, a bastard son or daughter who would become a Snow if Brandon admitted paternity? And Lyanna, what could become her fate if she did not start acting in a more feminine way soon? 

 

“That would be a big problem, I must agree. No man wants a wife that spends money without a thought, or fails to notice that the servants are being lazy because they know that the mistress will not punish them.” 

 

Thank the Old Gods that Eric seemed to understand, at least! But people would change with age, perhaps there was a small chance of Lyanna becoming less wild as she matured more and Brandon being wise enough to resist any female temptations when he had married and held his own firstborn in his arms. Perhaps marriage and motherhood held the same answer for Lyanna, to knowing that there would be a little child depending on her for survival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Daecy Mormont born in spring/summer of 274 AC to explain how Serena might know about her birth. 
> 
> According to the timeline on the ASOIAF wiki, Dacey Mormont was born at least one year before her sister Alysane. Alysane was born in 278 AC the latest. This means that Dacey herself was born 277 AC the latest. Dacey's mother Maege would have been at least 13 years old when Dacey was born and Maege's earliest possible year of birth is in 239 AC, meaning that Dacey could have been born the earliest in 252 AC. As a result Dacey Mormont was thus born in or between 252 AC and 277 AC, though it seems most likely, considering the ages of Maege's other children, that Dacey was born close to 277 AC.
> 
> Where I found some information for how long Lyanna might have been promised in marriage to Robert and getting my idea that 2-3 years waiting also happened to Serena
> 
> http://goodqueenaly.tumblr.com/post/162055145618/do-you-know-how-long-lyannas-betrothal-was-going


	3. To feel like a outsider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena and Lyanna crashes

People would always whisper about the wolf blood which haunted some of the Starks in the past, and yet, no one seemed to find it odd that Serena had not inherited it. 

 

“Somes wolves simply are more quiet than the rest of the pack,” Old Nan would tell her, but somehow Serena still doubted it. 

 

Rickard was distant from her, their relationship had almost been like this from her earliest years as she did not stand out much in a group of strong-willed siblings despite being the oldest. Not really meaning it, true, but he did not really interact with Serena, not in the same way as he did with Lyanna. 

 

“Father, I would like to use this design on the dress of lambswool I will wear at the wedding…” 

 

“Father!” Lyanna suddenly called, showing up behind a corner with a grey fabric in her arms; “Father, can we use this fabric for the new dress I will wear at Serena's wedding? Please?”  

 

Just like that. Lyanna would always get the attention from Rickard, take it away from Serena just as she needed it. It was in moments like this, when she was left behind, as the absence created by Lyarra's death felt impossible to overwin. 

 

“ ** _Father._** _We_ was supposed to talk right now. Lyanna, you need to wait until that I am finished,” Serena said in a cold voice yet loud enough to be heard, breaking off whatever Lyanna had been telling Rickard. 

 

“Ah...yes, Lyanna, can you go to my solar and wait for me there? I will come as soon I am gone with Serena…”

 

“No!! You are already done with Serena, Father, it is my turn!” Lyanna protested at once, her little face showing all the anger of being sent away, even stomping one of her feet. 

 

“ _ You  _ were the one to interrupt our talk, Lyanna. You have to wait for your turn,” Serena responded, which only made her younger sister throw the grey fabric into her face.

“ **_STUPID SERENA!!_ ** ”

 

That sudden movement also caused Serena to drop the newest gift from Eric, a fine copper hairpin with fragile glass beads as decoration, which fell out from her braid. When the hairpin landed on the floor, the glass beads was crushed into small pieces against the stone floor, ruining it.

 

“Lyanna…,” Serena whispered in a low voice, rigid with fury when she saw the ruined hairpin; “that was a personal gift from Eric! He wanted me to wear it at the wedding!”  

 

“Who cares about your stupid wedding! That hairpin must have been poorly made if it breaks like that!” Lyanna answered in a uncaring voice, still sullen. In response, Serena threw back the grey fabric at the younger Stark daughter. 

 

“Stop thinking about yourself for once, your damned….!”   

 

They would have started a true fist fight right there, had it not been for their father. 

 

“Girls, stop fighting!” Rickard ordered, holding them apart with his hands though Serena had been ready to meet the incoming hit from her sister, “Lyanna, go to your chamber and stay there for the rest of the day, I will not have you act like this towards your own sister! You ruined a personal gift for her from her fiance and you will pay back its value with your own pocket money before the end of this month!”

 

Tears building up in her eyes when she understood that Rickard would not take her side in this sibling fight, Lyanna ran off towards somewhere which likely was not her own chamber, screaming loudly about how mean Serena was and how she hated her father.

 

Once Lyanna was gone, Serena was not blind to how Rickard's eyes softened slightly, as if he regretted his words. 

 

“You are not disciplining her enough, or punishing her in a too light manner with just a scolding when she acts out of line, Father. Is this how you want her to behave when she is old enough for marriage?” Serena wondered in a sharp voice which showed her remaining anger, and Rickard was not looking her in the eyes for a honest answer, instas he was still looking after where Lyanna had run off. 

 

“She is only nine years old, Serena, are you not too harsh on her?”

 

She could not believe him. Her own father thinking that he was too harsh against the favored daughter? 

 

“ **_In seven years, she will be standing as a bride to be given over to a husband, just like I will do next autumn at the harvest feast, Father. Are you sure of that you want complaints from your future goodson about Lyanna throwing tantrums that is very childish for a married woman? That she acts more like a child than a woman grown, not doing the expected duties of a wife? If she acts like this towards me, her older sister, how do you think she will treat the female servants in the household of her husband?_ ** ” 

 

Before Rickard could answer, Serena gathered up the white lambswool fabric meant for her wedding dress and the ruined hairpin from the floor, before she too left, refusing to let him see the furious tears in her eyes. 

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

  
  


Once back in her own chambers and barring the door behind her, Serena took a deep breath before letting out of a raw scream of outrage that must have been heard all the way down to the courtyard. Why was her father so blind to the flaws of Lyanna? Was it because he had been a only child with no siblings growing up, and his own wife Lyarra being said to have some of that wolf blood as well? 

 

“I do not want to be in the same home as her…” Serena whispered, feeling the tears break out on her face. For all her attempts to not do so, Serena knew that she resented Lyanna. Resented that her sister could remain at Winterfell after the burial of their mother, while she had been sent away to be fostered. The age difference of six years might play a role in that decision, but Rickard had still not sent away his two youngest children for fostering with his bannermen when they had grown a few years older, acting as if Lyanna and Benjen needed the comfort of their home while their three older siblings had been fostered away from home. 

 

“Why is it like this…” Serena cried as she collapsed down on her bed, grief overwhelming her at the memory of how her father always acted around Lyanna. She was jealous of the tenderness Rickard showed his youngest daughter, while being all awkward with her, all because she was more feminine than her sister and mother. It always seemed like Lyanna could do nothing wrong, while Serena had to face the punishments in her stead. The scolding today was extremely rare to happen to Lyanna, and punishments even more so. 

 

More than ever, Serena wished to leave the North, to leave behind the feeling of always being in the shadow of Lyanna and never be fully noticed because her sister always took the attention away from herself. 

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

A few hours later, in the large kitchen of Winterfell; 

 

“Serena and Lyanna had a fight in front of their father? And my gift to her, that hairpin, was indirectly broken by Lyanna?” 

 

Eric Marsh looked shocked over the news he had just been told by a kitchen maid. Because it was still afternoon, he had sneaked into the warm kitchen to request some bread and ale since dinner was still a long time away.

 

“Yeah, Lord Stark ordered miss Lyanna to repay the value of that hairpin, but I am afraid that the relationship between the two miss Stark is going to be even more strained than before, thanks to this. They have never managed to create a true sister bond because miss Serena was fostered away and miss Lyanna was so young when it happened…” 

 

The fight had been heard by some of the servant girls, and they naturally had spread word to the rest of the servants to let them know why Lord Rickard and his two daughters would be in a bad mood that evening when the Stark family gathered together for dinner with their guests. For Eric, who had arrived five days ago to spend more time with his future wife in the hoping of bonding a little with her before the wedding in half a year's time, it was not pleasant to hear that his gift to Serena had been ruined. 

 

“If my own three sisters ever acted like that towards each other, the one who started the fight would be punished more heavy. Surely Miss Lyanna can not be blind to that such actions are not without punishment?”

 

He really hoped that Lord Stark was not sheltering his younger daughter to the point of that she was not prepared for the world outside Winterfell. Serena was a little more worldly thanks to being fostered in White Harbour and seeing signs of the rest of Westeros. True, the Starks rarely married outside the North but it would never hurt to know what was going on in the South as well. 

 

“I feel sorry for the husband who will marry miss Lyanna, if she keeps acting like this. If she expects to be spoiled and loved by her husband as she have been by Lord Stark, that can make her marriage difficult when she finds out that her husband expect her to act like a mature woman,” he thought in a not so little amount of worry for his future goodsister, emptying his tank of ale. He needed to find Serena and try showing her that she was not alone, that he would stand at her side if Lyanna kept acting like this towards her. When they married in six months, Serena would hopefully find a sanctuary by being the future lady Marsh and the female authority in the household. Yes, his home was not as grand as Winterfell, but it was not far away from White Harbour if she wanted to meet with any friends she had made while being fostered by the Manderlys and maybe she even would like the idea of travel south? To the other parts of Westeros, see how different they would be from the North. Perhaps she could even make friends there to start have as penpals? That could maybe help her when she was feeling down, able to rant about Lyanna to other ladies who had similar interests or personality and knowing that the behavior of her sister would not be accepted everywhere?  

 

“ I need to save up more money for a such travel, if I am to bring Serena as well, since I have wanted to see the world…” 

 

Yes, that was a good plan. And hopefully it would be a fine surprise for Serena to learn about when they was married. If he planned carefully, they would have enough money for a such trip when she was nineteen, in about four years, because a such long journey did cost money and all the preparations for the wedding was going to take some good bites out of the resources for both House Stark and House Marsh. 

 

“But first, I will travel to White Harbour after being here and see if that Dornish tradesman is still there, he had some nice gold jewelry which should look good on Serena as a bride…” 

 

With a smile, Eric went too find Serena and comfort her after the fight with Lyanna.    ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some inspiration for how things are between Lyanna and Serena, comes from this which goes a little deeper into how Sansa acts and feels in the GOT book;
> 
> https://sayruq.tumblr.com/post/184249680989/thelawyerthatwaspromised-trinuviel-sayruq
> 
> I wanted to try showing that Rickard is making similar mistakes as Ned with his daughters, bonding well with the younger one but failing greatly with the older. Their affects their relationships with each other, and favoritism towards one child can breed resentment from the siblings. I imagine that Lyanna is more similar to her mother Lyarra in personality than what Serena is, and the same in the next generation with Arya. There is also the absence caused by Lyarra dying early in the lives of her children, while Sansa have a still alive Catelyn to bond with when Ned is not around or favoring Arya. Meanwhile, Serena and Sansa are more feminine in a way neither Rickard or Ned can understand, making that bond between a father and his daughter suffer. In a way, Ned being fostered in the distant Vale and Rickard being a only child is my way of showing their lack of finding something to bond over with a more feminine daughter, there is some form of emotional neglect from them towards said daughter. 
> 
> See this about what I mean about Ned emotionally neglecting Sansa: 
> 
> https://sayruq.tumblr.com/post/183700491414/could-u-tell-me-why-u-think-ned-was-a-bad-parent


	4. Betrothals and weddings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena tries to build up a little help for the future, and marries

Year 276 AC, Riverrun: 

 

It was a great celebration, in honor of that the oldest Tully daughter had been chosen as the future bride to the heir of House Stark.   

 

“Cat is really going to be wed to the the heir of Winterfell?” Lysa asked in a timid voice, trying to make herself loud enough to be heard over the music. She had heard the words spoken from her father, Lord Hoster Tully, well enough but she mostly asked to ensure that she had not heard wrong.

 

“Yes, Brandon Stark is only two years older than your sister, and he is to be the Warden of the North after his father. It is a worthy match for a daughter of a Lord Paramount, and I intend for you to marry a such Lord as well, dear Lysa.” 

 

A part of Lysa wanted to protest. It was not the idea of marriage she disliked, no, for she wanted to be a well-married mother one day, but she feared that her father might chose the wrong man for her, one which would make her unhappy from the wedding day and onwards.

 

“Why not Petyr, father….?” she wondered for herself, looking from her own place at the high table to look towards the young ward she liked, where he currently was dancing with Catelyn. Was it perhaps because Petyr was only the son of a minor Lord, a bannerman sworn to House Arryn? That Petyr would not be able to give Cat the status of a well-married wife due to being very poor in terms of noble status, and that his grandfather had been a landless hedge knight before being knighted?  

 

“But Petyr, what are you doing?” Catelyn suddenly laughed, bringing Lysa back out of her thoughts, for Petyr had just tried to kiss her at the end of the dance, and gently pushed him away for another girl to dance with. Based on the sour look of his face, Petyr was not happy at all over the rejection. 

 

“Sister, now you were mean to him…” Lysa thought with some sadness, for Petyr did not want to dance with anyone else, and worrying enough, got himself very drunk as the evening turned into night. When a servant took Petyr to bring him to bed, Lysa was prevented from following after by her uncle Brynden Tully calling;

 

“The betrothal gifts from House Stark, brother, for the future bride and her own family!” 

 

Three large chests was brought into the festhall, and opened to show the gifts:

 

White cotton fabric for the wedding dress and fabric in different colours for everyday dresses, even if they were of a more muted colour than commonly seen in Riverrun. Several furs to make warm clothing for Catelyn when she would travel to Winterfell as the newest bride to House Stark. A big book about the history of House Stark, so Catelyn could be more familiar with the House she was marrying into, and other practical things which was more valued in the North. 

 

“And here is something for you as well, Lysa.”

 

“For me?” she had to ask in surprise, what was the meaning of giving something to a sister of the bride? She was not the one to move there for the rest of her life. 

 

It was nothing big, but when Lysa slightly shook the small box and something was heard inside, she realized it to be the wooden frame for a embroidery work, and the sound of needles. Had her father or uncle indirectly mentioned in a letter to Lord Rickard Stark that she was fond of making embroidery, and the better sewer of the Tully sisters? 

 

“I will unbox this all for myself,” Lysa giggled with excitement, taking off to her own bedchamber. Petyr could wait until that she was finished there. 

  
  


Lightening a candle to see better, Lysa opened the box on her bed. There was all the items needed for embroidery, but one of the wooden frames already had a image; a port city, built of white-washed stone if Lysa could guess the colour right. Searching mentally of what she had learned about important ports and cities in her lessons, it could be White Harbour. 

 

“A letter?”   

 

It was written in a feminine hand:

 

_ To miss Lysa Tully of Riverrun _

 

_ It must come as a surprise for you to be given this letter, when it is your sister who will marry my brother and become the future Lady Stark of Winterfell. Yet I felt that it was rude, to only give gifts to Catelyn and not something to her siblings as well.  _

 

_ Now, let me explain why I writes this letter; My own future husband and myself have a dream of travel across Westeros in a few years, to see the Seven Kingdoms with our own eyes and be able to tell our eventual children of this journey when they are old enough. As the Riverlands, ruled by House Tully, are going to be part of that journey, I believe it the wisest to get a little help from someone local and why not you, miss Lysa? _

 

_ The embroidery image I sent, are the White Harbour where I was fostered by House Manderly, and why not use embroidery as a secret way of drawing images of how various areas of Riverrun and Winterfell looks like? That way, you can see the world in a secret way. _

 

_ Respectfully _

 

_ Serena Stark, oldest daughter of Rickard Stark of Winterfell _

 

Oh, this sounded indeed like a small adventure in itself! And she was the one asked for a little help to plan that future journey? Somehow, this made Lysa feel important, if only in secret. To have someone trust her in a such manner...why not? Perhaps it could become a way to try and remove herself from Catelyn's shadow, to not be seen as just the second Tully daughter anymore, at least for someone.   

 

She needed to plan the first image. Maybe tomorrow would be a clear day with sun and she could try a embroidery image of Riverrrun when arriving to it. Surely miss Serena would like that, with a responding letter? 

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

Autumn 276 AC, Winterfell:

 

Serena was dressed in white, just like any maiden on her first wedding, but she had embodied a few golden stars and grey direwolves on her lambswool dress, to add on a personal taste alongside the sign of her House. Her hair had been brushed and carefully oiled by her maids so it was shining in the light from the autumn sun, hanging freely like a waterfall of gentle curls. 

 

“Serena,” Rickard said, offering his arm so he would escort her to her groom, who awaited her in front of the weirwood tree in the godswood. All her siblings was there, Brandon and Ned coming home to Winterfell for the wedding, dressed in their finest clothing. Though Lyanna had a sullen look on her face which spoke of boredom. 

 

“No sour faces, Lyanna. That might give a bad first impression of you for your own future husband,” Serena said over her shoulder, her glare focusing on her sister and thus missed the small moment of Rickard suddenly looking unsure over something. But it vanished as quickly as it had came. 

  
  


Eric Marsh was indeed waiting at the weirwood tree, and they spoke the ceremonial conversation: 

 

“Who is coming in front of the Old Gods?”

“Serena of House Stark, to be wed to Eric of House Marsh as his wife.” __

 

“Who is coming in front of the Old Gods?”

 

“Eric of House Marsh, to be wed to Serena of House Stark as her husband.”

 

“Who is coming in front of the Old Gods?”

 

“Rickard of House Stark, to give my daughter Seren as bride.” 

 

“Are you accepting this husband?”

 

There it was, the last chance to refuse the marriage if the bride so wished. But Serena spoke out in a clear voice, loud enough to be heard:

 

“I accept this man.” 

 

Reaching out to each other, Serena and Eric joined hands before they knelt before the heart tree, bowing their heads in token of submission. When they rose to their feet again, following a moment of silent prayer among themselves and the wedding guests, Eric then removed her Stark-colored maiden’s cloak from Serena, and placed the bride’s cloak in the colour of House Marsh around her shoulders as a sign of taking her as his bride. 

 

“Good luck carrying her all the way back to Winterfell!” Brandon laughed somewhere, but Eric proved himself strong enough to easy lift Serena up in his arms as if she weighted nothing. 

 

“Lord Manderly needed to feed her a little more than this, if I would drop her for being a little too heavy!” Eric responded with a grin, making some of the present Lords laugh when Serena added in; 

 

“Say that again when I am in the last months of pregnancy, stupid.” 

  
  


The wedding feast was a rather different feeling of a normal harvest feast, even if it had been logical to have the wedding during that time, when all the bannermen would come to Winterfell anyway. 

 

But Lyanna was not happy at all, for she had not been seated at the high table. No that was where the bride, groom and their parents would be seated today, and the siblings of the married couple would rather be seated among the adults or the children, depending on their age. For Lyanna, it felt like being overlooked by having to eat at the same table as Eric's three younger sisters and Benjen alongside other children, while Ned and Brandon was viewed as old enough to be seated with the adults despite that Ned was only three years older than her.  

 

“This is no fun….” she muttered, pushing away her plate with a jealous look on Serena, where the older sister was in the center for all the attention today. For Lyanna, who rarely had been ignored in favor of her sister, this was a unpleasant feeling. Especially as her father actually had threatened to punish her, if she tried to take away attention from Serena today! 

 

“Weddings are stupid! And why are they so happy with Serena? She is so boring and never do anything fun! I will be much happy to see her gone!” 

 

A warning look from Old Nan, who had actually managed to hear it even among all the music and noise as the men grew more drunk. Lyanna hoped that she would not tell Father, for the younger Stark daughter had no desire to not be able to run around freely and having to do all that boring “ _ necessary knowledge all ladies of the North needed to know _ ” as Serena called it. She hated to be indoors, to sew and knitting clothing when there was servants who could do that instead! Was not that the purpose of having servants, to make life easier for those of higher status? Why did she need to learn it, when she was a daughter of the Warden of the North?  

 

“Time for the bedding!” someone suddenly shouted, and despite having rather much to drink, no one was too drunk to start taking away Serena and Eric from the high table. 

 

“Do not pull off my smallclothes, please, and I would rather not have that dress ruined, I made it myself and want it remaining whole as a memory!” Serena managed to request when Jon Umber easily lifted her up in his arms to carry her to the wedding chamber. The men seemed to hear the request, for they only pulled off the shoes, stockings, belt and the cloak from her body before Lord Umber carried her upstairs. 

  
  


There Serena was placed gently on the bed, and it did not take long for Eric to be pushed inside and the door closed behind him. He had been less lucky in being undressed by the present women on the way, for he only wore his trousers of linen. 

 

“Are you not cold, barefoot and all?” Serena joked in a friendly manner, seating herself on the edge of the bed with her back against him and looking over her shoulder as a invitation to help her undress.  

 

“Um...yes,” Eric admitted, his cheeks slightly more red as he came closer to the bed and started to help her. Even if she had done the dress herself and it actually was rather easy to remove, she hoped that he might get a reaction by slowly having her body revealed in front of him. He was three years older, but not all men liked to “get some experience in bed” before marriage, either because of personal morals or wanting to be faithful to the future wife. 

 

“Well, let's see if we might be blessed with a little Marsh heir in time to next summer, shall we?” 

 

“Yes….” Eric managed to say before he found himself pulled down on the bed, Serena placing herself very close to his own body, which made him blush even more. If anything, Serena at least wanted the marriage to be consummated tonight or in the following nights. She had heard enough stories of that could be a cause for annulment of a marriage, and she held no desire to be tossed between various bridegrooms as her father tried to use her as a pawn to quiet down any mutterings about that he intended for all his five children to marry south.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This version of Lysa is going to be inspired by the AO3 story Lady of Rivers and Storms, and I will try and show her as the person she might have been, had she not been forced to about her baby with Petyr and marrying Jon Arryn who was old enough to be her grandfather. As for Petyr himself...I really find his adult self a horrible creep when it comes to his obsession with Catelyn and later Sansa, so I have plan for him in this story. 
> 
> I mean, I understand that he loved Catelyn and wanted to marry her, but that kind of obsession for years well into adulthood and then preying on her own, underage daughter as a replacement, is NOT HEALTHY!!


	5. Meeting between North and South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the royal wedding in the South makes things happen

Ninth month of the year 279 AC, Sunspear in Dorne: 

 

When Elia looked over the list of invited guests to her wedding to Rhaegar in a few months, she noticed that one important family was missing:

 

House Stark. 

 

“No, no, this will not do. We can not have all the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms present and yet one of them not being there. If Lord Rickard Stark can not come in person, surely he can send one of his children as a representative of his family? I am pretty sure that one of them must be old enough to be able to travel…” 

 

She will write a invitation in her own hand, hoping that she will get a response at the very least. She will not force House Stark to show up, only show that they are not forgotten by the future Queen consort in this way. After all, there are a difference between a honest forgetting and flat out ignore people. 

 

House Stark may not be seen very often in the South, but maybe there was a chance to change it. 

 

Still Elia was a little bit worried when it came to her future husband: Under the first months of their betrothal, during a visit to Dragonstone to talk about how they intended to set up their household, she had gotten the nagging feeling of that Rhaegar was something of a dreamer, that he seemed to view the world as something he was not really part of. And that kind of people could become dangerous, both to themselves and for people around them. 

 

Rhaegar was also….well,  _ sheltered, _ that might be a good word for his upbringing, since he rarely had travelled anywhere than the ruins of Summerhall where he had been born, and he loved his silver harp more than his lance. Elia herself was three years older, and despite her less than ideal health, she had traveled to find a possible suitor in Starfall, the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall, and finally Casterly Rock, even if she had remained free from being promised in marriage when she returned to Dorne after that long journey. She was born a Princess in her own right, even if Rhaegar was to be next King. 

 

“I hope that I can help him become more grounded...or at least ensure that our future children will not be like that.” 

 

She could remember stories of how the very pious King Baelor Targaryen had meant well by his wishes for peace with Dorne and using his prayers as weapon instead of a sword, but his choice to dissolve his marriage to his sister Daena by that he never had bedded her as a wife, and thus never fathering a heir of his own, had indirectly lead to a massive trouble down over the years, even long after his own death. People was even saying that by refusing to bed Daena and locked her up in the Maidenvault to “keep her innocence and purity all her life”, Baelor was the one to blame for the very existence of Daemon Blackfyre! 

 

For Elia, who would be the second Martell princess to marry a Targaryen prince and end up as the queen consort of Westeros, the very idea of facing a such threat to her own future half-Dornish children, was not something she ever wished to happen. Therefore, she would need to keep a eye on Rhaegar and asking her future ladies-in-waiting to keep her watch out for women who might try and get their way into his bed. Daemon Blackfyre had proven that royal bastards could be dangerous, and with the prejudice she would be facing as a Princess of Dorne, Elia could not be too careful.      

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

A few weeks later, Winterfell: 

 

“How, in the name of the old gods, did **_all three of you_** manage to injury yourself like this?!” Serena scolded in disbelief when she saw her gathered siblings in the large chamber where Measter Walys was busy to patch them up after a horse race which had gotten a little too wild. Brandon had a broken leg and the left hand bandaged so he could not move his fingers, while Lyanna had gotten herself a severely bruised foot with a matching broken arm on the other side of her body. If one ignored the large bruise on his cheek, Benjen had “only” escaped with a concussion and loss of his last baby teeth. 

 

“We all tried to win, and forgot to watch out for places in the snow where it could be tree roots,” Brandon responded, sounding like he was regretting how he had put his younger sister and brother in a such risk. Serena made a facepalm to stop the angry snarling she wanted to let out. 

 

“All three of you are good riders, and you forget some common sense about riding in a snowy forest? Please have this as a lesson on how to be a little more careful.” 

 

She did not mean to sound like Old Nan whatever she had scolded the very young Stark children for something, but based on the amused look from one of the maids who passed by in the doorway, it still came out like that.

 

“Are you planning to take after Old Nan when we all are old and grey?”

 

Brandon may have meant it as friendly joke and Lyanna did indeed laugh, but the flat out death glare Serena sent him, told the Stark heir that for her, the joke was not funny. 

 

“Serena? Your father wishes to see you and me in his solar,” Eric thankfully called somewhere, breaking off the tension which threatened to raise between the two oldest Stark siblings. 

 

“I am coming, Eric.” 

  
  


Rickard seemed to have mixed feelings on his face, when Serena and Eric entered his solar.

 

“You have heard about Rhaegar Targaryen is about to marry Elia Martell, right? Well, this morning a wedding invitation arrived, written by Elia herself.” 

 

He held up a letter, where a feminine, elegant hand had written. 

 

“Did you intend for Brandon to travel there, and possibly bring Catelyn Tully along in a chance for them to spend time together before their own wedding?” Serena wondered, for that sounded like something her father might do, simply because he could not just leave Winterfell anyhow personally. 

 

“Your brother proven himself a fool this forenoon with his siblings, and a broken leg need time to heal before he can try to ride again. Ned is in the Vale and I am not sure if a raven would reach him in time. Lyanna is too young to be sent to the royal court without a male relative to keep watch over her, and Benjen is out of question as well. Therefore, Serena, you are to present House Stark at the royal wedding, to remind people in the South that the North is still part of the Seven Kingdoms.” 

 

She nodded, and when she gave Eric a quick glare, he seemed to understand the hidden message. It was time to start that planned journey, now when they had a reason to travel.

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

Riverrun, in the last month of year 279 AC:

 

“Ooooh, they are really going to attend the royal wedding!” Lysa whispered for herself in surprise and excitement about what the latest letter from Serena held for news. Over the three, almost four years passing since that first letter, Lysa felt as if she and Serena had become pretty good friends, or at least though their written letters since they had yet to meet face to face. It was very nice to have a different “sister figure” than Caterlyn, one who actually encouraged her to not listen as much to Septa Mordane and her view on that Catelyn was far superior to Lysa. 

 

_ That kind of favoritism, be it from a parent or teacher, is never good. It can poison the relationships between siblings, ruining their own sibling relationship for the rest of their lives. I speak of my own experiences, in that my Lord Father seems to not have anything in common with me and thus favor Lynna, which I fear will not end up in the good manner as she grow ready for marriage. Try and find your own strengths, the areas where you are good, and stick to them. _

 

Lysa knew of Serena's worries about Lyanna's wild behavior, that her sister would be too used to getting her way and how it could end up ruining her future marriage when the husband would not spoil her in the same manner as Lord Rickard. It was especially worrying when Lysa was the same age as the younger Stark sister, and yet her own shyness often prevented her from doing anything too bold which miss Lyanna might rush to do. Catelyn, naturally, would never do anything which was unladylike, for it was not in her personality. 

 

“It is sad that Father will not have me and Catelyn come to see the wedding, but maybe I can ask Serena for a drawing of the wedding ceremony, or at least the wedding clothes worn by the bride and groom? Princess Elia surely must be stunning in her own way,” Lysa thought, finding her quill and began to write a reply, where she would add in the request. 

 

She knew that Serena had tried to reach out to Catelyn in a communication by letters as well, in the hope of knowing the future bride of Brandon a little, but it seemed like Catelyn had came off as a little too smitten with her future husband in term of him being so handsome and charming, and perhaps even a little insensitive to how different the North was from the Riverlands. As a result, Lysa was the one to write most of the letters, while Catelyn kept hers short and polite after that she had found Serena hard to reach out to. 

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

Travel by ship was something neither Serena or Eric had done much in their childhoods, but it seemed that the old gods was blessing them, for there was reasonable calm weather almost all the way from White Harbour to the island of Tarth, where they stayed for three days as the guests of the Lord of Evenfall, Selwyn Tarth. Based on what Serena could see on the shape of the dress, his wife showed herself to be blessed with her second child, which would be born a few months later. 

 

“Oh yes, sometimes it can take some time for a woman's womb to quicken with child, even if it is said to be a good sign of the future when a baby is arriving three seasons after the wedding,” lady Tarth spoke kindly where they was sitting in a sewing chamber to do some needlework together, when Serena felt brave enough to admit that she worried about her own fertility. She had been married to Eric for three years now, but she had not even suffered the sorrow of a miscarriage yet. 

 

“To be honest, I did not feel fully ready for motherhood when I married, and the mere idea of becoming a grandmother in my early 30s was...well, I do not know to explain it,” Serena said before finding herself to the attention of little Galladon, the young heir to House Tarth, proving himself a sweet four-year-old boy as he handed over a small fistful of wild flowers to both his mother and her female guests in his two tiny hands. 

 

“Pretty lady!” Galladon giggled in joy as Serena took the flowers. 

 

“Oh, believe, lady Serena, that is a feeling you would not be alone to feel. Some women have a little difficult to find those maternal instincts so valuable in our role as mothers. Personally, I think you simply needed a few child-free first years of marriage to grow comfortable with your husband without viewing your duties in bed as a burden. Hopefully, your time here in the South might be what you need to get pregnant, a little warmth from the sun, away from the cold in the North? If I carries a live daughter in four months, perhaps it would be a fun tale to tell that her future goodmother and goodfather was visiting here just before her husband was begotten.” 

 

As much as she felt her cheeks redden over a such tale be spread over the coming years, Serena had to laugh. And why not? If her father wanted his family tied to the South though marriage, surely a grandson born to his oldest daughter and one of his bannermen could be given a southern bride as well, just to bring in some new blood. 

 

“Oh yes, I will see how it goes, but I hope to return to the North with a child in my womb or my arms when this planned journey to all seven kingdoms is finished.”

 

That would be a nice ending of the journey, to return home with a child she have managed to give birth to without losing it or herself dying by childbirth fever. Besides, attending the royal marriage would be a event which maybe only happened once in a lifetime, because the North was so far away from King's Landing where the royal court was. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elia is born in 256 AC in my stories, making her three years older than Rhaegar and ten years older than Lyanna
> 
> Brienne is mentioned to be born in 280 AC, so she is making a indirect guest appearance
> 
> Catelyn and Serena is meant to be a case of two persons being a little too similar in character to really get along, and there is also a minor case of culture crash between them in the written letters


	6. Grief and joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy marriage can end so quickly

New Year of year 280 AC, King's Landing:

 

The wedding between Crown prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell happened on the New Year, a symbolic act of a new beginning for the Seven Kingdoms. The couple was dressed in new clothes for this important event, Rhaegar in a of the classical Taryaryen colours with black trousers, a bright red tunic with exclusive silver brocade fabric accents on the front and sleeves. 

 

“Surely he could afford to wear a  _ different set _ of colours on his wedding day at least? The black makes me think of a burial, not a wedding,” Serena whispered to Eric, who nodded in agreement, where they was standing close to the double-doors to the Great Sept of Baelor. Neither one was really impressed by the future king when it came to his lack of brighter colours more fitting for a joyful day like this. Sure, he wore the colours of his House, but for them, who came from the North where black was either for mourning or the Night Watch, the black and red Targaryen mix were not a good choice in wedding clothes. Serena could got really say what it was, but for whatever reason, she had a feeling of that Rhaegar seemed to be a bit absent-minded, as if he was not really present mentally.

 

“At least his bride is a lovely sight to see. Look how lovely the color of her dress is, like a promise of rain.”

 

Elia, on the other hand, wore a lovely dress in a turquoise, which brought out her skin colour and black hair with the gold jewelry she wore. There had been some mutterings about she was not wearing white like other maidens on their first wedding, but in Dorne weddings was normally a sea of colour for both the bride, groom and their guests, so she had chosen the turquoise silk as a secret signal to those who disliked Dorne; she was no passive maiden to silently do her duty as a Queen consort by giving the Targaryen dynasty new heirs from her body and merely fade into the background. She was a Princess of Dorne, and knew her value even if her health was not the best.

 

“The King may not be present, but look, Queen Rhaella is here…”

 

The current Queen of the Seven Kingdoms seemed happy to see her oldest son getting married, but at the same time, she had a air of sadness to surround her, most likely because her younger son had not been allowed to attend the wedding. Her purple dress was a lovely one as well, but she could not hide how thin her body seemed to be, despite having been pregnant seven times and suffered three miscarriages over her life so far, which should have left her with a little more shape on the hips and stomach, from what Serena knew. 

 

“She is only fourteen years older than her own son, I think she was wedded and bedded too early….” Serena whispered to Eric. 

 

“Yes, she was lucky to avoid death, given what happened at Summerhall as she gave birth.”

 

In the North it was rare to marry below the age of sixteen. Betrothal at a younger age was common and in general the girl was meant to get time to mature under a few years, but consummate a marriage with a bride who was more of a woman-child than a reasonable mature maiden in body? No, that was a invitation to the very high risk of losing both the young wife and the first child in childbirth at a too young age, and woe to the father who married off his daughter at a far too young age to a groom who did not care about the risks of losing both wife and first child from her. Such pairs of goodfathers and goodsons was viewed as untrustworthy, as they did not seem to care about the lost lives when a too young mother lost her life beside the child she had not managed to give life to. 

 

“But Princess Elia is three years older than the prince, that should help her to survive in the birthing bed…”

 

Eric stopped whispering, when he spotted a odd look in Serena's grey eyes, focused as she was on Elia as the royal bride and groom passed by them. However, he knew his wife well enough by now, to have a guess on why. 

 

“Oh no, have I gotten a rival about your favor by a raven-haired, black-eyed beauty from Dorne?”

 

He was indirectly referring to that Serena had admitted to be drawn to both men and women when she had started to change from child into a maiden, having become good friends with people of both genders while she had been fostered in White Harbour. She had promised to remain faithful to their marriage bed and give him children, if he only allowed her to  _ enjoy the sight _ of other ladies if there was anyone she found herself likening. And that seemed to have happened right now.  

 

“She is a far more stunning sight than the bridegroom, colourful and warm like the sun. I have heard about the Targaryen beauty, but something about the pale skin and the shades of silver hair….reminds me of  _ the Others. _ ”

 

Ah, that Eric could not blame her for. Everyone in the North knew the legends of the Others, and the dangers the Long Night meant for humans. If Rhaegar Targaryen indirectly inspired such feelings in Serena, then there was no way in the frozen hells of winter that she would be drawn to him. No, it was way safer that Serena liked princess Elia, who came from the land of sun and desert, instead.  

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

The wedding feast was a grand one, as fitting for when the future King married the woman who would bear his heirs. To her great surprise, Serena saw Robert Baratheon making a sign for her to come over and have a seat at his side when she spotted him. 

 

“You wished to talk, my Lord?” she wondered, as he personally poured up some lemon water to her after a gentle refusal of some offered wine in her goblet. 

 

“Sort of. I have learned something which...I am not sure of that your sister might like.” 

 

Serena recalled how Lyanna had reacted to the news of her betrothal to Robert and their first meeting two years ago when Robert had followed Ned home to Winterfell for a visit; she had found the young Storm Lord handsome enough, yes, but maybe a little to loud and enjoying the pleasures of life in a way she was not used to.

 

“You and Brandon are rather alike in character. If she can accept Brandon with all his good sides and flaws, she should be able to like you as well. Only that she is rather...stubborn.” 

 

Robert said nothing, looking as if he tried to find a good way to say what he wanted to explain.

 

“ **_I have a daughter, Mya Stone._ ** ” 

 

A natural daughter, huh? Well, it could have been far worse, like Robert making himself drunk enough to find himself in bed with a much more socially unfit wife and having said wedding vows to her. That would have been a pain to deal with, as lords normally did not marry commoners.  

 

“The Vale of Arryn, I guess, given her surname. How old?”

 

“The result of my grief over losing my parents almost two years ago.”

 

He must have been in the Vale then, when the news arrived, or little Mya would have been a Storm instead.  

 

“Lyanna should know that men have needs which can reach far past the marriage bed and that bastards can be born in all kind of circumstances, not only during a marriage. And with Mya being born before the betrothal between you and my sister, it is not like you actually dishonored Lyanna. Rather, I would call Mya a sign of that you are fertile and should have no problems with siring both nephews and nieces on Lyanna for me.”

 

Robert laughed, a little more at ease over her words. Then a minor lord from the Reach offered to dance with Serena and she was brought out on the dance floor again. 

 

At some point, Serena turned around from her current dance partner, and found herself face-to-face with no no one else than Rhaegar Targaryen. They followed the dancing couples around them, but neither one spoke. The Crown prince had a strange look in his purple eyes, as if he almost expected her to transform into a direwolf and bite his head off in front of all the guests. That unspoken reaction was enough to offend Serena since she was well aware of that the North was viewed as uncivilized by those from the South, and gladly accepted Robert as a new, and far merrier dance partner when a new song was started. 

  
  


Despite having drinking some more than what they both was used to, and stronger wine on top of it, Serena and Eric managed to find their way back to their guest chamber without neither one tripping over. 

 

“All this dancing with so many lords makes me so warm…” Serena whispered, fanning herself with a hand, her face blushing in a manner which was not shyness. She even tried to hold out the fabric from from her chest area with a finger to cool herself. 

 

“I can help removing the dress, if you would like.” 

 

Eric was used to help Serena undress, so he knew how to handle the side lace in her kirtle under the gown so she could remove all her clothes. It seemed that even her finest cotton gown, made a pleasant blue from being dyed with woad, had actually been one layer too many to wear in the south.   

 

“Come over here, my brave warrior of the North, and cool me down.”

 

It seemed like the royal wedding and the following feast well into the night had started some form of reaction on them both, for this night their love-making was not like a duty at all and more of the joy they both had came to like. Besides, it would be fun to tell their eldest child if he or she shared the same name-day as a future royal baby, if Elia Martell got pregnant this night as well.  

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

After that the marriage had been consummated and Rhaegar fallen asleep at her side in the large marriage bed, Elia could not help but feel… dissatisfied. She has been a virgin, yes, because she had never really felt the desire of a sexual relationship before, not with how her delicate health sometimes ended up making her bedridden if she had worn out herself too much. But she had learned a few tricks from good friends and some of her own ladies-in-waiting who were a little more familiar with what happened between the bed sheets, and based on what they had told her, Rhaegar was not someone who had “trained” before the wedding night because he had been so clumsy and not knowing much in what to do outside the very basics of sex to the point that she would have rated him as a unsatisfactory lover for anyone who might try making a move to be his mistress. 

 

“At least he is not a new Aerys I, in terms of sexuality….”

 

Elia would pray to the Mother for that his clumsy attempts of love-making would make her pregnant this night, for she could not stand the idea of having to suffer more than necessary in bed to give him the heirs the Targaryen dynasty needed. 

 

“What did he expect, that I was fully trained in the arts of pleasure like a lady of the evening?” 

 

If this was how her married life was going to look like, then she would use her health as a legal reason to kick Rhaegar out of her bed once they had a heir and a spare. He had a little brother who would grow up and marry a future wife as well, and House Targaryen had lost crown princes in the past before they had taken the crown after their fathers. Like Aemon Targaryen, the eldest surviving son of Jaehaerys I and Alysanne Targaryen, and Baelor Targaryen, the eldest son of Daeron II and Mariah Martell. 

 

Not that Elia actually planned to murder Rhaegar and make herself a royal widow once they had a son and a second child, but House Targaryen had no defence against accidents or illness, even when they had their dragons as a sign of their power. 

 

“I only need to pray in hope of being blessed with a son and survive the birth, and then I can plot to make my life easier as a Queen mother.”

 

Aerys may only be fifteen years older than his own son, but he was a mortal man like anyone else. Even Kings could die unexpectedly, in ways that was not related to poison. Besides, rumours said that he was not kind to Rhaella in the marriage bed anymore, so her new goodmother would likely have a great advantage in become a widow soon, at least when it came to getting a more peaceful life and not having to suffer her fertility problems anymore. 

 

Yes, that was a good plan. Praying for a son while hoping that Rhaegar would not have to visit her too often before she got pregnant, and for that Aerys II soon would die so the Seven Kingdoms was free from him. And if Rhaegar proved to not be the promising King people viewed him as…

 

Well, once Elia had a son, he would be viewed as alternative to his father and uncle, and she would do her best to raise him to not just view women as brood mares, he would have the blood of Dorne in his veins and she would not have her future children insult their maternal cousins in a such manner. 

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

 

Two days after the lavish wedding, Elia and Rhaegar would leave for Dragonstone where they would live as the future royal couple of Westeros. Elia herself was only happy to leave King's Landing, the stench was unbearable and she wondered just why the past Targaryen Kings had not bothered to at least expand the city and fix the sewage system. 

 

“Well, cousin, at least Dragonstone will only have the smell of salt water!” her cousin, Alynna Gargalen joked in good humor, and Elia had to smile a little. That was true, salt water was easier to smell than the capital, and at least you could bath in it on hot summer days. 

 

“I am sorry for that you can not come along as a lady-in-waiting, but I understands that you want to return to your children.” 

 

Not that Elia would have only fellow women from Dorne, she had accepted Serena Marsh neé Stark as a temporary lady-in-waiting, when the daughter of the North had told her of the journey across the Seven Kingdoms she and her husband planned to do. And Dragonstone was not far from Storm's End, so why not start there? 

 

“Well, it will look good if the Stark daughter is part of your household, even if it will not be long before she and her husband leaves. Married to bring respect among the other servants, old enough to not be a silly girl caught up in fantasties about a future husband.” 

 

Said daughter of House Stark was seen a bit further away with Jon Connington, and from the fierce look in her eyes and clenched fists, the Lord of Griffin's Roost was not many moments far from getting a fist into his face which would send him into the waters of Blackwater Bay.   

 

“I hope that he is not insulting her or her home, I doubt that Lord Stark would be happy to hear about his oldest daughter being disgraced by the young Lord of a house of landed knights.”

 

There was a big difference in social rank between the Great Houses and landed knights, since several of the Great Houses, like House Stark, Arryn and Lannister, was former royalty before swearing loyalty to Aegon the Conqueror. Landed knights, however, was the lowest rank of nobility and Jon Connington would not do himself any big favor if the North heard that he did not treat Serena right as a daughter of a House far above him in birth rank. Being a close friend to Rhaegar would not save him from the wrath of the Warden of the North. 

 

“Get onboard, everyone! It is time to leave!” Carral Gargalen called from the front of the ship, having been trusted to bring the royal couple and all the new ladies-in-waiting to Dragonstone. Somewhere, a splash was heard as Jon Connington was sent into the water by Eric Marsh for disrespecting Serena in front of his very own eyes.  

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

They should have realized the warning signs. A storm was coming towards the royal ship heading towards Dragonstone, and fast. 

 

“Get the Crown Prince and Princess Elia into their cabin and lock the door!”

 

Having been onboard on a ship from White Harbor once in her younger years when a storm had hit, Serena hurried to take a long rope and tied it around her waist before tying the other end around the main mast. That time in the storm outside White Harbor she could have died, if not for the sailors on that ship showing her that this was a very simple way to avoid getting washed overboard by large waves. 

 

“Tie yourselves to the masts!” she called to the other ladies-in-waiting over the quickly-growing winds, who tried to not panic in the middle of this incoming danger. They managed to do so in the very last moment, for soon the storm hit the ship. 

 

“Uncle Carral!” Elia screamed in fear from the royal cabin, the sound of fists on the wooden door and what had to be Rhaegar trying to pull her away. 

 

“Do not come out here, Elia!” Carral responded, trying to steer the ship away from a incoming wave. The massive waves threw the ship around like a leaf in the wind during autumn. Above, thunder was heard before lightening up the dark sky and the rain made it hard to see where they was going. Carral was a skilled sea captain, and his crew trusted him just as much as he trusted them, but it was hard to control the ship in this weather. Everyone tried to hold on to something, or else they would be washed overboard.  

 

“Hold on!” 

 

Then, as the wave swept over the ship, Carral managing to swing around at the last second and narrowly avoiding that they turned over by the force, the door to the royal cabin was slammed open by the wave as well. Elia had removed her slippers and was now barefoot on the slippery deck, while Rhaegar struggled to keep his balance because he still wore his fine leather boots. 

 

“We told you to stay inside!” Arthur Dayne scolded his prince as he hurried over to tie a rope around Rhaegar's waist. If the Targaryen prince and his bride was lost in the storm, who knew what king Aerys would do to the survivors as punishment. 

 

“Princess!” 

 

Eric had just managed to tie Elia to the mast as well, when a new wave hit the ship. And since he had used his own rope to ensure that they would not lose he Dornish princess, the mother to the next Targaryen generation, he was swept overboard. 

 

“ **_Eric! ERIC!!!!_ ** ” 

 

They could see him in the water, where he struggled to stay at the surface. And then the waves took him into the depths of  Blackwater Bay. 

 

“ _ ERIC!!! NOOOOOOOO!!! _ ” 

 

There was no mistake of what had happened in front of her very eyes, and Serena let out of a raw scream of horror and grief which was deafened in the winds but the weather still seemed to reflect the storm of emotions inside her right now. 

Three members of the crew was taken by the waves sweeping over the ship as well in almost the exact way as Eric, before they finally managed to get out of the horrible storm. 

 

And with Eric gone so she was a widow after not even four years of marriage, with no way of knowing yet whatever she had gotten pregnant or not by him so House Marsh might have a male heir from her or his much younger  brother, Serena knew that her future was very uncertain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Rhaella born in 245 AC, making her fourteen at the birth of Rhaegar, if only for the sake of just narrowly manage to avoiding that she was too young for pregnancy and childbirth (damn it, Martin, why are there so many child brides in ASOIAF!?!) 
> 
> Inspiration for the wedding dress Elia is wearing: 
> 
> http://www.wholesalemantra.com/images/Products/Large1/Indian-Bridal-Wedding-Wear-Anarkali-Heavy-Suits-Collection-Online-Seller-At-Lowest-Price-WSM-1702_6.jpeg
> 
> Inspiration for Rhaegar’s wedding clothes: 
> 
> https://sep.yimg.com/ay/yhst-55945181203785/wedding-tunic-14.jpg
> 
> Rhaella’s dress at the wedding 
> 
> https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1713/9363/products/product-image-184184124.jpg?v=1516837877
> 
> Lady of the evening is another term for a prostitute, and given how much the rest of Westeros seemed to view Dorne in sexual manners, Rhaegar might have a few such views too and thus made him shocked that Elia was a virgin. 
> 
> And yes, I made Rhaegar a virgin on the wedding night, and as a result, Elia was very much dissatisfied with her groom. Because, given how much he used to read as a child, my idea of him as a daydreamer too stuck in a fantasy world to realise how different the reality is, his eventual obsession with the Prince that was promised and then all the things about having a third child, I do not think he would have lost his virginity earlier
> 
> Alynna Gargalen and her father Carral is OCs created by Ramzes and borrowed with permission to make a guest appearance.


	7. Sun daughter, daughter of the north

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena and Elia are both pregnant, and neither one knows which gender their children are...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: the female equivalent to Jon Snow are born in this chapter, but will be a niece to Ned though Serena in this story

Castle of Storm's End, a few months after the royal wedding: 

 

“So the House of Targaryen will expand though a new family member being born already this year, hm? Oh well, it is not like the sinking number of my birth family over the past decades is any news for me.” 

 

The older woman, who bore a faint hint of faded silver-blonde streaks among her greying formerly black hair, glared down on the signed name at the end of the letter. Something about the way Rhaegar wrote his name, did not please her. Almost like Jaehaerys was haunting her though his grandson…

 

“As if I ever forgave my idiotic elder siblings for disobeying our father Aegon when it came to their planned marriages into other Houses and ruining his plans so I had to try lessening the damage though my own marriage into House Baratheon!” 

 

And with that Rhaelle, the current matriarch of House Baratheon since her law-daughter Cassana had died with her son Steffon in that horrible storm two years previously, threw the letter from her great-nephew over her shoulder. She had never been close to her siblings again since she first had learned about their actions, in her eyes a proof of selfishness and failure of understanding why the Targaryen dynasty needed to add in new blood into the family itself. Had not the marriage of Daeron II and Myriah Martell resulted in four sons and several grandchildren, many of them marrying non-Targaryen spouses? 

 

“Mylady, your grandson lord Stannis is requesting your presence when he arrives from the hunt,” a maid spoke from the door, before returning to the task of bringing down the dirty laundry to the laundresses. 

  
  


As she walked out to meet Stannis out in the central castle yard, Rhaelle thought of her three grandsons. With her passing fifty-one years since birth, she was the undoubtable leader of House Baratheon since Robert was still choosing to be in the Vale over his own seat of power. 

 

“Since Robert is bound to marry once his betrothed turns sixteen, he really should stop spending time with Jon Arryn and instead focusing on his duties as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.” 

 

It was truly regrettable that Rhaelle never had been a tall woman, so she could easily stand eye to eye with her oldest grandson. Ormund had always respected her as his wife, Steffon had never stopped to fear his mother because of how strict she had been with him, but Robert? Oh yes, a fitting respect for her as his lady grandmother, but sometimes Rhaelle wished that Robert had been home more during his time spent as a foster son to Jon Arryn. He had never been close to Stannis who was a scant year younger, because their personalities was so vastly different. In a way she felt sorry for Stannis, who had been an introverted child, mature beyond his years yet also solemn and joyless because he was in the shadow of Robert. 

 

“Grandmother,” Stannis greeted at seeing her come out, giving over the reins to his hunting horse to a stable boy. For someone who knew both the Baratheon and Targaryen families, such as Rhaelle herself, it was plain obvious that Stannis had been inheriting more from his Targaryen blood relatives than the Baratheon side. Tall and broad-shouldered like all men of Baratheon blood, but sinewy in a way that Robert was not.   

 

Rhaelle nodded in greeting to her middle grandson before taking his arm when it was offered, and together they walked to the library for a private talk. 

  
  


She sat down in her favorite chair, and faced him. 

 

“It is regrettable that I could not get the older Stark daughter as a bride for Robert, for even with you and Renly as his heirs before his own firstborn from a legal wife arrives, I feel that it is not good with miss Lyanna still have two years, left before she is counted as a woman grown at age sixteen.” 

 

The younger Stark daughter had just turned fourteen, according to a new letter from the north, and by all logic, her flowering should arrive soon to start change her from a child into a maid. Rickard Stark was not the Lord to starve his children unless it was as punishment. 

 

“So you mean that I need to find….a bride...for myself in case of that House Baratheon looks weak for not getting a a new generation for three years at the minium, my lady grandmother?” Stannis asked, looking both displeased and actually uncomfortable for a moment. Not that Rhaelle blamed him, Stannis had trouble around women despite his age being where young men normally tended to get very  _ distracted  _ by women, especially those with a generous bosom. 

 

“The youngest Tully girl is rumoured to be promised to the Lannister heir, House Tyrell have no girls born yet from the son and two daughters Olenna bore to her husband, Jon Arryn have no children unless he marries a third time despite his age. Forget any chance of the Greyjoys and a wife from the Iron Islands, and your future good-sister is a Stark daughter. However, I can help you look around the Stormlands if you would rather want a wife from your bannermen.”

 

Stannis was once again grinding his teeth, which earned him to get his cheeks pinched by Rhaelle. 

 

“Stannis, what have I told you about grinding your teeth like that?” 

 

He glared at her. 

 

“That I will make myself lose all my teeth before I am fifty, should I live that long,” he muttered, pleasing her in a strange way that was only between the two of them. 

 

“Thank you. Now, go and see if there is anything needed to check with the servants, I need to gather a list over the unmarried young women here in the stormlands that could give you a pleasant marriage. I know you well enough to realize that you would prefer a dutiful, quiet wife over a emotional one who starts crying by a romantic song being sung.” 

 

Stannis turned around to leave. 

 

“Just do not choose a foolish girl, grandmother. She would fall for Robert like anyone else.” 

 

She glared at his back as her grandson left the library. 

 

“And you find it hard to talk with and charm girls, when you basically insults them by comments like that?” Rhaelle asked aloud for herself. 

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

At Dragonstone: 

 

The whole bloody castle was grim and unpleasant, for those used to different castle. Elia's private chamber had been covered in thick carpets on the stone floor and tapestries on the walls, even thicker window shuts and curtains to keep away the winds, all in a attempt to raise the temperature to a more acceptable one. 

 

“Are Rhaegar still at Summerhall?” Elia asked in a displeased voice from her bed when Ashara Dayne entered with a bowl of fresh fruit. Her pregnancy had not been easy so far, a overwhelming fatigue and freezing despite being dressed in several layers to keep warm.  

 

“I have not heard anything else,” the Dayne noblewoman confirmed, setting down the bowl where Elia would reach the fruit from the bed and joining Serena at the fire. Right now it was not visible because she was sitting down, but otherwise there was no mistake; Serena had gotten pregnant around the same time as Elia, and if her child was a son, the boy would be the next Marsh heir instead of her much younger brother-in-law who was only ten years old. Until that the baby was born, it was impossible to tell which gender and what kind of future that awaited. It had taken most of those four months, but her grief over Eric had finally lessened enough for her to stop feeling sad all the time she was awake.  

 

“I had a bad feeling already on the wedding night about his character, and it is not pleasant to find out that I was right,” Elia mumbled for herself, taking up her own embroidery to rest against the pillows again as she worked. Right now two sets of baby swapping was being made, one for the royal baby and one for the little one under Serena's heart. It was important to create them in good time, or they would only be stressing to finish before the births. 

 

“Serena, there was two letters from the North for you with a raven today.”

 

“My lord father and good-father, no doubt.”

 

She chose the one from the old Lord Marsh first, and was pleased to see that he confirmed one of her questions in a earlier letter, where she had asked about her future now when Eric was dead and there was no way of knowing that she would birth a son. 

 

“Lord Marsh says that I am free to return to Winterfell or stay here as a lady-in-waiting, should my babe end up being a daughter. There is a too much age difference for me to be a bride to his younger son and with three daughters who all needs a dowry to bring into their own marriages, a granddaughter would add an extra burden for their finances since Eric sisters are born only one year apart from each others and weddings are costly. Even if I were to join my own dowry with that of a daughter, there is no way to know if that would be enough.” 

 

Serena did not want to return to Winterfell yet, she knew that her father would try and find a new husband for her among his bannermen once her mourning period was over. A son would ensure that she was the mother to the next Lord Marsh and would guarantee that she did not have to remarry, but a daughter… 

 

“You are afraid of your own daughter getting caught up in the plans which your father seems to have with the southern marriages for his heir and your sister.” 

It was Ashara who had spoken. 

 

“Yes. I understand the idea of Ned, Benjen and myself marrying spouses from our bannermen, to put a end of any complaints about Brandon marrying a Tully bride, since the Riverlands are basically south for us and also that miss Catelyn follows the Seven instead of the Old Gods. Lyanna marrying into House Baratheon means that we extends our connections outside the North through marriage and kinship in future generations. But my father trying to control the future marriage for my daughter when she is still a babe in the cradle? No, that I refuse to allow...ow!” 

 

Due to losing focus as she went into the rant, Serena stabbed so hard with the embroidery needle that the went through the layers of her dress and into her knee. When she lifted the skirts to see the damage, there was a bleeding wound in her skin. 

 

“Ashara, warm water from the small kittle at the fire and some soft cloth to bind that up, will you?” Elia requested, sitting up in bed and actually leaving the warmth under the covers to help. 

 

“Elia, please remain in bed, I do not want to be the cause of you starting to freeze again just for something that I can do on my own…” 

 

The Dornish princess' hand felt hot against her own skin when Elia brushed a thumb over the wound, but it was not the heat of a fever, thankfully, only from the warmth in bed. 

 

“I hope that both our children shall be daughters, even if a such birth would make the royal court disappointed and me needing to become pregnant again to give Rhaegar a son, for then my daughter would have a playmate and perhaps my son could have a easy choice for a future bride.” 

 

Serena was not blind to what Elia hinted to. A marriage between House Stark and the future king Elia had to give Westeros from her womb. A winter daughter at the side of the sun dragon, if one could describe their possible children that way. 

 

“Only if we finds a way to ensure that Rhaegar will not end up mad as his father, or anything similar. I will not have a daughter be viewed as barely fitting for a prince, due to being a granddaughter and niece to the Warden of the North instead of being a fruit from the union of Brandon and Catelyn.” 

 

Elia nodded in agreement, as she started to clean the wound on Serena's knee and then wapping soft cloth around as a bandage. 

 

“I need to survive the birth of a heir and possibly a spare first, then we can plan about the future.”

 

That was a promise, which they both knew. 

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

  
  


Roughy seven days before Elia's due date, Rhaelle Baratheon arrived unexpectedly via ship with Cressen, the maester of  Storm's End, to give help with the royal birth. 

 

“Trust me, you will need all the help you can get, princess, for childbirth is not called a woman-only war without reason. And Cressen helped me in all my seven births, even when four younger boys ended up being stillbirths and my two daughters living not longer than the turn of the moon, for all my prayers of giving my Steffon siblings.” 

  
  


The Baratheon matriarch turned out to be right. 

 

Elia needed help by both Cressen and several skilled midwives when her labour pains finally started, for the birth was a difficult one. 

 

“I want to  _ geld _ Rhaegar right now for causing this by making me pregnant! Fine husband he is, arriving just this very morning and asking in confusion why I had not given birth yet!” 

 

No one remarked about what she just had said, for it was nothing new by a wife saying such things about her husband when in the birthing bed. Besides, the Crown prince had not exactly been encouraging his pregnant wife with that insensitive comment. Though it had been a more funny sight of an not very amused Rhaelle dragging away her great-nephew by the ear for a not so silent scolding about needing to pull his head away from his beloved books and remain in the real world now when he was about to become a father. 

 

“A princess,” Cressen confirmed as he held up the wailing baby in his arm, to show a nearly unconscious Elia that her baby was alive and healthy. 

 

“Great, I have to do this again for a son…” 

 

As the midwives hurried to tend to Elia, to ensure that she would not die, Cressen quickly washed and swapped the newborn princess so Rhaelle could show Rhaegar his daughter. 

 

And Serena could not hide her own labour pains anymore, now when Cressen turned around to ask how it was with her after helping Elia despite being near her own due date. 

 

“Why did you not say anything earlier, miss Stark!?” 

 

Serena ignored the slip Cressen addressed her with, it was likely how Lyanna was addressed as the future Lady Baratheon and it was not like many here in the south would know her as the widowed lady Marsh. House Stark was the Wardens of the North, after all. 

 

“Push, miss Stark!” 

 

“By the Others... **GET OUT,** **_ALYSANNE!!_ ** ” 

 

No one knew if it was the name which helped the baby to enter the world, but both mother and child survived. 

  
  


When it was nearly midnight, princess Rhaenys Targaryen was joined in the nursery by someone the wet nurse joked about being her first lady-in-waiting already: Alysanne Marsh, the posthumous daughter of Eric Marsh and Serena Stark. 

 

But unknown to the newborn granddaughter of House Stark, there would be some people desiring to prevent House Stark getting power at the royal court with Serena being a lady-in-waiting to Elia and thus starting rumours which doubted her paternity because of the circumstances surrounding the death of her father Eric, and because she took after her maternal family so much that very little of House Marsh would be traced in her appearance...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Rhaelle born in 229 AC because had she been born in 233 as her latest year of birth, she would only have been 13 years old at the birth of her son Steffon in 246 AC. Her being 17 at his birth would give her a few years of maturing and avoiding being too young as a bride and first-time mother (What is it with you and too young brides/mothers, Martin?!) 
> 
> I also imagine that, with the likely fertility in House Baratheon, it would not be impossible if Rhaelle and Ormund had more children born after Steffon, but none of those children lived
> 
> (In case you wonders about the known Baratheon Lords and their number of descendants; Rogar Baratheon was the oldest of five grandsons to Orys, our familiar friend Robert siring 16 bastards, Steffon having three sons, possibly more children that did not live long, with 15 years between Robert and Renly in age, and Borros having five children, four daughters and one posthumous son born seven days after his death)
> 
> Rhaelle dragging away Rhaegar by the ear for a scolding despite him being the Crown prince? Of course she dare to do that, she is the sister to his grandparents and senior by two generations! And spending her whole life with the Baratheons as her family by marriage, she have done this on not only Robert too, trust me
> 
> Alysanne as the name of a daughter with Stark blood instead of some female name starting with Jon? Yes, that name is in the Stark family tree, just like Serena is named after a ancestor with the same name too

**Author's Note:**

> Serena's name comes from a name list of earlier-generation Stark daughters, and I wanted Lyarra to not die in childbirth but rather something else
> 
> I made Serena born in 260 when her father would have been 30 years, meaning that I HC Rickard to be 52 years old at the time of his death in canon


End file.
